She tipped her head as she regarded him. “I thought all men were tough and brave when it came to squishing insects.”
“Nope. I never said I was a tough guy. I’ll let you go first.”
She stared at him for a long minute. She had something other than cobwebs on her mind. He said, “You might as well ask me whatever it is.”
“Before we tackle this project, may I borrow your buggy for a short trip today?”
“I see you noticed that I brought one along. I did plan to leave it for you to use. I noticed Eli had one in the barn but the front wheel has a broken spoke and I don’t know if Ralph will okay the repair. Do you want to borrow my horse, too?”
Her smile was brief but genuine. “Ja, I would like to borrow the horse, too. I looked but I couldn’t find a harness to fit Patches.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Patches?”
“Sophie’s cat.”
He laughed. “That’s a goot one. My horse’s name is Frankly.”
“Frankly, not Frank?”
“Nee, it’s Frankly and he’s a bit high-strung. I’m sure you can manage him if you know ahead of time that he likes to try and turn left at every intersection.”
“Why?”
“Frankly, he has never bothered to tell me that.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Are you ever serious?”
“Not unless I have to be. Are you going to leave the kinder with me?”
She shook her head. “Nee, I’ll take them with me.”
“Goot, kinder are scarier than spiders.”
Clara went to collect the children, leaving Paul waiting outside. She might have thought he was kidding about looking after the children but he wasn’t. Toby he could manage but the needs of a girl Sophie’s age were far outside his level of comfort. Paul was still standing beside the buggy when she came out with the children.
“Danki, for the loan of the horse and buggy, Paul. We should be back in an hour or two. Why don’t you start downstairs and save the attic until I return?”
He hung his head and tried to look downcast. “You think I’m not brave enough to go into the spider’s den alone.”
She chuckled. “That’s right.”
“Paul is plenty brave,” Toby insisted.
“Not as brave as your mother,” he replied, meaning what he said.
He opened the buggy door and handed her up. He held her fingers a moment longer than necessary because he liked the way they felt in his hand. His eyes met hers and he saw them darken with some emotion before she looked away and pulled her hand free.
* * *
Clara blamed her fast pulse on the importance of talking to Dan Kauffman. She wasn’t willing to admit Paul had such an effect on her. He was nice-looking, with his sincere brown eyes and light brown hair. In a way, he reminded her of her husband, Adam, but she wasn’t looking to marry again. She needed to put all her time and effort into seeing that Sophie stayed well and providing for both her children.
She picked up the reins. “Frankly, walk on.” As the horse headed down the road, Clara resisted the urge to look back and see if Paul was watching her.
When she reached the highway, Frankly tried to turn left, forcing her mind back to the task at hand. Once she straightened out the horse, she headed down the highway at a steady clip. Frankly had a high-stepping gait that made the miles fly by. He was the kind of horse young men wanted to pull their courting buggies so they could impress the girls. Was there someone Paul hoped to impress? She quickly dismissed the thought as none of her business.
Four miles from her uncle’s farm, Clara allowed the horse to make his preferred turn to the left and entered the driveway for Dan Kauffman’s home. She had only been to the place twice when she was younger but not much had changed. His wife still cultivated an extensive rose garden, and there was a large shaded pool with water lilies where gold and white koi fish made their stately rounds waiting for a handout.
She secured Paul’s horse and allowed the children to go look at the fish while she walked up the graveled path to the front door. If anyone knew why her uncle had changed his mind, or if he hadn’t, it was Dan. Although he wasn’t Amish, he had been her uncle’s closest friend since their boyhood days.
She raised her hand and knocked on the brightly painted red door.
* * *
Paul decided he would spare Clara the task of climbing into the attic with him. He was glad he did the minute he opened the trap door leading to the space. It was as dusty and cobweb-filled as he had suspected it would be.
An hour later, he hauled the last box of odds and ends down the ladder and carried them into the kitchen. Eli King had stored very few things in his attic. There were some books and a set of dishes with three chipped plates. There was a shoebox full of newspaper clippings. As an appraiser, Paul knew they were worthless but he set them aside for Clara to look through.
The final box contained a dozen carved wooden toys. They were dark with age but all in good condition. These were the kind of small items that usually sold well at an auction. He would have to ask Clara if there was a story associated with them. Englisch auction-goers particularly enjoyed purchasing an item with a history.
Paul made a list of every toy and noted the condition in the margin beside the description. When he was finished, he wasn’t sure if he should wait for Clara’s return or if he could go ahead and inventory the kitchen without her. As he was making up his mind to wait, he wandered into the living room and noticed a tall, beautifully carved bible stand in the corner.
It was made of dark oak and deeply carved with vines and leaves in the elaborate German style popular hundreds of years before. The sides and front of the cabinet were panels carved with bible chapters and verses in three-inch-high letters. On the front was Genesis 1:1. Below that one, a panel bore the inscription Isaiah 26:3. On the left side three panels were inscribed with John 3:16, Matthew 5:44 and Philippians 4:13. On the right side was Proverbs 22:6, Daniel 6:22 and Romans 12:2. Paul drew his fingers along the carvings. The verses must have held a special meaning to the cabinetmaker or the person he made it for.
Paul lifted the lid and stared at the huge antique German bible inside. The book was at least six inches thick and bound with red calfskin. He opened the cover and saw the publication date of 1759 on the yellowed page. Clara’s family must have brought this bible with them when they immigrated to America with the first Amish families. This wasn’t going to be sold. This heirloom belonged to Clara to be passed down to her children and her children’s children no matter what Ralph Hobson thought should be done with it.
Paul heard the arrival of a buggy and glanced out the kitchen window. Clara had returned and his heart gave an odd little skip at the sight of her.
He pulled back from the window. This wasn’t normal. He had dated plenty of young women and none of them had triggered a jolt of happiness, or whatever this was, when he saw them.
He walked outside, intending to take care of his horse but Clara was already unhitching Frankly. Should he take over or allow Clara to finish? He wasn’t used to watching a woman do his chores while he stood idly by. “Did he behave for you?”
“He tried several times to turn without permission but once he understood what I wanted, we didn’t have any trouble.” She unhooked the last strap and led him out from between the buggy shafts. “But you will have to get a new buggy whip.”
“What? You whipped my horse?”
“I’m teasing, Paul. Does